


The Lost One

by tnnyoh



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Murder, Dark, Death Rituals, Domestic Violence, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Gen, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Karnaca (Dishonored), Kidnapping, Magic, Morley (Dishonored), Murder, Murder Mystery, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Religious Content, Supernatural Elements, Swearing, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Envisioned - Freeform, The Void, Threats of Violence, Witchcraft, cultist nonsense, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2018-10-27 05:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10802523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnnyoh/pseuds/tnnyoh
Summary: A young boy living in the slums of the city discovers much more than he bargains for when he starts to experience strange and supernatural events.





	1. Angel Without Hope

Rain soaked and covered in dirt, the young boy ducked down behind the crates that were stacked up against the stone shop wall.  He was spying on a man and woman who were in front of the crates, having a hushed conversation. 

"They are saying jobs are down the drain. Everyone is going to be out on the street by next week" The woman said, her tone was tense.

"They say that every day," The man said in what was supposed to be a comforting tone, but there was a hint of annoyance "We're going to be okay, don't worry"

"That isn't all we have to worry about," The woman said "There were those rumors about those crazy monks" She began but the man put his finger up to stop her "Those brainless idiots on a scavenger hunt?" He chuckled "Darling, you have nothing to worry about from them, Just a bunch of crazy lunatics." He said but his words did little to ease his partners' worries as she twiddled her thumbs nervously 

 "But my cousin Weslyn was there in the village when they came up north, she said they were there to take children." 

"Did they take any?" The man asked

"Well no, they... they didn't. But that's what Weslyn said the man told her" She coughed in the cool evening air and her breath was visible. 

"Yeah, like I said, crazy" The man threw his head back and gave an amused chuckle. The boy, however, had grown tired of listening to this conversation, he started to sneak away as carefully and quietly as he could, turning a corner to lean against the wet stone of the wall and catch his breath. 

"Hey! what the fuck do you think you're doing?" A man's voice shouted from across the street, it belonged to a portly man with a beard who had come out of one of the various shops still open "get the hell out of here, we ain't got nothing for you!" The man yelled, he was walking towards the boy and before he could run the man grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged him across the street, the man, and woman who had been gossiping stared in shock as the portly shop owner took the kid into the building, slamming the door behind him. 

"You thinking of stealing shit, kid? Why are you prowling around out there?"

"I am not a kid," the boy said angrily 

The man's face contorted "Did ya hear me?" He asked "This neighborhood has enough problems without some snot nosed little brat trying to take all our stuff"  He huffed, spit flying out of his mouth as he spoke.

"I don't know what impression you have of me Sir," He said, applying as much sarcasm as possible to the use of the term "but I can assure you that I would never dream of stealing anything in my life" He held up both hands 

The man gave him a glare for a moment and the boy thought he was going to get even angrier, but instead, he just sighed heavily "Alright, alright, I know you're lying to me, but I don't got the energy to deal with it?" The man said, he took a moment to catch his breath and then looked at the boy "You hungry, kid? You look like you haven't eaten in a month" 

The boy looked down at his skinny arms "I haven't, Sir" 

"Enough of this sir crap," The man said, crossing the shop and heading into a back room "You can call me Emory" He came back out of the dark room with a plate of chunks of cheese and bread "What's your name, kid?" He asked, pushing papers off a table nearby and pulling a chair to the table, motioning for the young man to take a seat.  The boy complied and stared at the plate, he was extremely hungry and felt his mouth watering just being near food. 

"Well?" Emory said, "What's your name?"

The boy thought fast "Um... Renfred... Sir... Emory." He lied, He was a street kid who on more than one occasion succumbed to petty theft, there was no way he was going to give out his real name.

"I'm sorry 'bout being so rough with you Renfred" Emory said "I've had a bad day, the shops is failing, my wife left me" 

The boy took a chunk of cheese and nibbled at it nervously, like a mouse, the man grabbed another chair and sat in it, grabbing himself some cheese and bread.

He chuckled "I shouldn't burden you with my problems, you're just a kid" 

The boy swallowed "My age has nothing to do with this" 

"How old are ya?" Emory asked, picking up another piece of bread and popping it into his mouth

"Fourteen" The boy answered, rolling his eyes, He knew that this man would treat him as any other adult had in his life; like he was a child who didn't know anything "I've lived on the streets since I was ten years old" He added 

The man nodded "Ah, so you think you've seen it all, huh kid?" 

"I've seen a lot more than you think"

"Like what?" Emory asked

"I saw a man die in an alley," He said "I just stood there and.. Just watched him die" 

"And just how old were you when you saw this?" Emory said, his eyebrows raised.

"I was about twelve, and I remember it clear as day. He was stabbed and he stumbled into the alley I was in, he just laid there on the ground and he choked on his blood and died"

Emory coughed on the piece of bread he had popped into his mouth while the boy was talking "Good lord boy, You don't have to be so dark" He said, hitting his chest as he coughed

The boy stared at him, a severe kind of stare "Do you believe I'm not just some dumb kid now?"

Emory laughed "I'd say so, you've seen some real dark shit, kid. Hope you don't let that make you bitter like I did" He got up from the table and retrieved a bottle with a worn label, all the boy could make out was "Ale" 

"Why would I have any reason to be bitter?" The boy asked "I mean I'm just a homeless orphan who barely ever eats and who has no friends" He hit his fist on the table for emphasis. 

Emory shook his head and sighed "Look, kid... I know... life is hard, but I have enough on my plate without having to..."

"Take pity on me?" The boy stood up from the table "I don't want your pity, I never asked for it" He grabbed the plate of food "But I AM taking this" 

Emory waved his hand "Get outta here!"

 

* * * * 

The boy had left Emory's shop and he was headed back to his hideout when he saw a woman and her daughter standing outside one of the shops across the street, the woman was standing with one hand on her hip and the other grasping her child's arm, a scowl on her face as she scolded the young girl "I cannot believe I gave birth to such an UNGRATEFUL little bitch!" The woman yelled 

"Mother..." The girl said, tears running down her cheek "Please, I did not mean to..."

Her words were cut short by her mother's hand slapping hard across her face, The boy shouted "Hey!" to get the woman's attention, she looked over and her face contorted with rage, "What the hell are you looking at?" She shouted

"You should not do that," The boy said back, the woman huffed in anger and let go of her daughter's arm - she stomped across the slick street and grabbed the boy by his wrist "Let me go!" He shouted as she twisted his wrist around in her strong grip "Not until you learn manners!" she pushed him to the ground "You don't get to yell at me, urchin, I will discipline my child the way I want to!"

The boy looked up at her from the stone street "You don't get to hit your kid" He stammered 

"I don't?" She asked, raising her eyebrow "Maybe I can hit you instead." She kicked him in the shins hard, and then once in the stomach, she crossed back over to her daughter to grab her hand "I'm going home where I'm going to beat the absolute crap out of my kid, and you or no one else like you can tell me what I can and cannot do" 

The boy coughed, he pushed himself into a sitting position and he watched the woman walk away with her terrified daughter, who was fighting against her grip but wasn't able to free herself "Stop fucking fussing" He heard the mother say as she used her free hand to smack the back of the child's head.  He felt his nose starting to bleed and dripping to his mouth, he stood up; his fists balled at his sides "NO!" He shouted

The world seemed to pause for a moment and electricity crackled all throughout his body, he felt his body move without him being fully aware of it, the next moments were mere flashes in time, his hands against the woman's back, her face slamming into the stone, the young girl running away, blood, screaming and then darkness. 

 

 


	2. All Align, All Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Orphan finds his way into trouble when he kills a woman, he looks for a place to hide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found this second chapter in my drafts never posted, so I decided to fix it up and post it today!

The boy stumbled through the alley and crashed down onto his cot, he was trembling as his body wracked with sobs.   
  
After a while, he started to calm down enough to think, he needed to move, to get out of this part of town or they would just toss him in prison or sentence him to death.  He got up and grabbed his worn bag - which was a sack he had stolen from someone's shop - he shoved all his belongings into the sack and when finished he tied it off with a worn piece of rope and slung it over his shoulder.  
  
He would have to leave the cot and make a new place to sleep when the time came, He made his way to the front of the alley and peered out in both directions to make sure nobody was around.  He started walking down the street and slowed down when he came back to the street where the woman had hurt him.  
  
There was a small crowd around her body speaking in hushed tones   
  
"She's dead," one man said, "There's no pulse..."  
  
The boy looked away and crept into the alley past the crowd, careful not to let anyone spot him.   
  
* * * *  
  
He had found an abandoned old house, practically falling apart and taken refuge there, dropping his bag on the floor and falling to his knees beside it.  He felt sick as he put his face in his hands and laid there on the floor until his body gave out on him and he fell into uneasy rest.  
  
His dreams terrified him, he dreamt of the woman grabbing him again but then she turned into his father, And then he was at the edge of a cliff reaching out to a faceless figure but they wouldn't take his hand and he fell to his death, he woke up in the old house to a rat nibbling on his nose, he flung himself away from the rat "Go!" he said "Get out of here!" He took a piece of debris from the ceiling and threw it, the rat scampered off with a squeak. absolutely disgusting, he thought, he hated rats with a passion  
  
He crawled back to his bag and dumped it out over the floor, just a bunch of stuff he had stolen, it wasn't even all he had but the rest of it was at his home, and he was never going back there  
he grabbed a flat cap he had stolen right off a newsboys head and placed it onto his own, he was going to have to go out again and he had a great urge to avoid being spotted, he looked at his hand, bruised from where he had landed on the pavement when the woman pushed him  
  
she deserved it, he thought bitterly and then he shook that thought out of his head as he opened the door and left the house, heading back down to the shop square where he had been the previous night  
When he got there, there was a man in a trench coat asking questions to passersby, the boy put his head down and started to cross when the man tapped him on the shoulder "Hey kid, you live around here?"  
He didn't answer and kept walking with his head down  
"Kid, I asked ya a question,"  the man said "I'm running an investigation here"  
The Boy felt his heart beating in his throat, he wanted to vomit as the memory of last night came back to him  
"Where are your parents, young man?" he asked "They did a poor job teaching you manners"  
"Hey!" a familiar voice shouted from across the street "Renfred, what the hell are you doing back here!"  
The boy pulled the hat lower on his head and tried to walk faster but Emory The Shopowner made his way over to that side of the street "What are you questioning him for?" Emory asked the man in the trench coat, who responded by sticking his hand out "Archibald Wright"  
The man didn't take it "The name is Emory, I own the shop across the street, You're turning away my customers with your questions"  
"I'm sorry sir," The man said, putting his hand down when he realized that Emory wasn't going to give him a handshake "But I'm running an investigation here, a woman was murdered on this block last night, would you know anything about that?"  
"I don't know anything about anything, I run a shop, that's about all I know," He said, the annoyance in his voice rising  
"Who is this young man?" Archibald asked, "Do you know him?"  
The man put his arm around the boy without warning "Yep, this here is my serving boy, Brings me the papers in the morning, helps me around the shop. Reliable young Renfred, I can always count on him."   
Archibald took out a parchment pad and a small curved charcoal pen "Yes, your name is Emory, correct?"  
"Yep," the man said  
"What is your surname?"  
"Cooper," He said, watching the man write in an almost unintelligible script  
"And what is this child's name?"  
"Sullivan" The boy quickly lied, without looking up  
"Alrighty," Archibald said, "Did you hear any screams last night?"  
"No" Emory answered, running his hand through his beard "I did catch a bastard child running around here trying to steal shit from the other shops," he said, squeezing his arm around The Boy tightly and forcing a smile "Might want to look into that"  
Archibald put away his little parchment pad "That is not helpful, I will come back at a more accommodating time to question you both" He said, tipping his hat to the both of them before walking off down the square  
"Come with me, kid" Emory said, turning the boy and leading him back into the shop he had left last night  
The boy took a seat and looked up expectantly at Emory, who raised his eyebrows in confusion and then sighed after a few moments "Oh, alright" he said with reluctantly heading to the back and collecting several plates worth of food and snacks, which he sat upon the table unceremoniously  
"May I have something to drink?" The boy asked, pressing his luck  
Emory grumbled but didn't say anything as he left the room once more and returned with a cup of what the boy truly hoped was water, though it had the viscosity and appearance of mud  
   
"What is this?" the boy asked, Emory, gave him a glare "It's water"  
"Sure doesn't look like it," He remarked as he lifted the mug to his lips and promptly set it back down to the table  
"You might not want to give me so much sass, young man, I just saved your ass out there" Emory sat at the table across from him "I saw what happened last night"  
The boy felt his entire body run cold, as if the blood coursing through his veins was ice water "W-what?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady  
"I saw what happened out there with that woman," He said, grabbing one of the snacks and popping it into his mouth "Don't look so tense, kid"  
The boy exhaled hard "Tense?" He said "I killed someone" he hissed  
"Haven't we all?" Emory said, his face remaining the same  
The boy stared at him incredulously "Do you have any idea what is going to happen to me if I'm found?" Emory paused his eating as though he were giving it some thought  
"They are going to kill me," the boy said, putting his face on the table "I'm a murderer" he lifted his head up and started crying "I killed someone," he said, a hopelessness in his voice  
Emory put his bread down and sighed "Look, kid. I ain't going to tell anyone, and I'm not going to let anyone snoop around here, You're perfectly safe with me" he reached over and patted the boy on the hand  
"Do you mean that?" the young boy stuttered  
"Kid, you seem like you've been through a lot, I ain't gonna judge what happened out there, Looked like self-defense"  
"She was hurting her child," the boy said, "I told her to stop, and she hurt me instead"  
"So you have a touch of martyrdom?" Emory inquired, placing a chunk of cheese against his lips  
"Sir, you may be comfortable watching bad things happen and not doing anything to intervene, but I can't... do that"  
"Intervening is so boring," Emory said "People do what they do, not much I can do to change that"  
He rose from the table "You can stay with me for a while until they stop investigating that woman's death"  
The boy rose from the table "Thank you, sir" He said, he smiled weakly  
"Yeah yeah," Emory said, rolling his eyes as he took the plates from the table "Just don't bother me, and expect me to force you to work"  
"Work?" the boy cocked his head  
"Yeah" Emory replied, carrying the plates to the back room "Earn your keep around here, child"  
"What is it that you do, exactly?" The boy shouted to memory in the other room  
"Coffins" was the reply  
"Coffins?" The boy asked, "isn't that a bit morbid?"  
"Someone has to make 'em," Emory said, coming back into the front room "People die, they need a place"  
The boy's eyes trailed around the room and he shifted uncomfortably "Some people don't have a place, some people will die alone in an alley, and others will fade from the world - nobody will ever know they were there"  
"Yeah well, if you're worried about that for yourself, Don't. Everyone's gonna remember you as the boy who never shuts his mouth" Emory said, lifting up a box and placing it on a shelf behind the sales counter  
The boy bit his lip "That isn't nice"  
Emory surprised him by bursting out with a loud and unexpected laugh "Kid, you're an abused orphan and this is what offends you the most?"  
the boy crossed his arms "My father isn't going to apologize for beating me and my mother isn't going to apologize for being dead, But you could apologize for being mean"  
Emory chuckled "oh good lord, I'm sorry, alright.  I'm just teasing you, It's funny seeing you get so angry at everything"  
"I'm not angry," He said, defensively  
"Ya know," Emory said, continuing to stock things onto the back shelf "Someone who denies something so fervently, obviously feels differently"  
The boy rolled his eyes and ignored the remark "Where can I sleep?"  
"Upstairs, hold on a second and I'll show you the staircase"  
The boy wondered how there could be any room for a staircase in this small shop but he didn't ask, instead sinking back onto the chair and sighing.


	3. A new place to call home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The orphan finds a place to call home and hide from his sins, but you can't outrun fate in a place as dark as this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back at this fic thanks to a wonderful comment that inspired me to continue it, thank you so much! This was started before DOTO was out, but now that it is and I have played it, I'm going to be working in canon story themes into the idea that I originally had. 
> 
> This story takes place in a very very old Morley, before they have to settle to Karnaca. This is my headcanoned birthplace of the Outsider. The move to Karnaca will happen in this fic, and eventually I'll delve into the cultists as well.

"Here, you'll stay in this room unless I ask you to help around the shop."  Emory said, opening the door to a cramped little room that looked more like a storage closet than anything else.   
  
"I can't go outside?"  The Boy asked, he frowned at the size of the room, but he knew it was better than sleeping in the streets.   
  
"What are you? An idiot?" Emory asked, pushing old empty crates out of the way to make room for the kid. "You walk out of here and people will start asking more questions, like that nosy investigator.  You want that?"   
  
He shook his head, he knew Emory was right, but he hated the feeling of being trapped, like he was held prisoner.  He walked into the tiny room.  There was a small bed and crates surrounding it, looked like old things packed away.  "What is all this stuff?"  He asked, looking over at the man  
  
Emory cleared his throat "None of your business, and I don't want you touching any of it neither."  He picked up one of the heavier looking crates "This" He indicated what he was holding "is for the showroom downstairs"  
  
"You have coffins in there?"  
  
Emory set the box down in the hallway and opened up a door that was hidden previously by stacked crates "Of course not, I've got the models of the coffins, I mock up the models first to see what they'll look like or if they'll work and then I go to my workshop and make the large ones"   
  
He retrieved a set of pillows and a larger looking quilt "Here ya go" He handed these things to the boy "Kind of musty, I'd suggest opening up the window for a bit to get the smell out of here.  Haven't been up here in a long time"  
  
the boy took the blankets and tossed them onto the bed, he attempted to open the window, but it appeared to be painted shut "Excuse me, Sir?"  
  
Emory was just about to head into the hall to take the large crate downstairs when he turned to look at the boy "What is it, kid?"  
  
"I think the window is painted shut" He said, trying to get it to budge again. He felt like his arms were going to give out just from excreting the bit of force necessary to open a normal window.  
  
"Ah yeah, that'd be the former owner.  I forgot about that" He came over "Might have to get a knife and chip at it if it won't budge" He motioned for the boy to move out of the way and grabbed the window, trying with all his might to push it up "Damn, it's completely stuck."    
  
"It's not a problem" the boy said, taking a seat on the musty bed and watching the man struggle to open the window   
  
"No I don't want to asphyxiate you up here, kid. I'll have to get my tools and chip away at this paint.  And you can thank Anora Pendleton for this shit"   
  
"Who is that?"   
  
"The woman who I bought this place off of. She's a maniac. Used to be rich and then she gave away all her coin to open up a bakery"  
  
"That doesn't sound so bad"  
  
Emory chuckled "It's bad when you think about what she was serving in the bakery"   
  
He headed back out to the hall and lifted up the overfull looking crate "Rat cakes are a Morley delicacy, after all. Not everyone is going to be interested in that"  
  
the boy gasped as Emory went down the stairs and out of sight.    
  
Rat cakes? disgusting. He thought.  
  
* * * *   
  
He spent the rest of the day moving around crates to make more space in his tiny little room, Emory had come up to check on him once and another time with tools to chip away at the paint holding the window shut.  Eventually he was able to pry it loose and open it up, letting the dust that collected on the window's ledge to be blown every which way  
  
Once the dust had settled and Emory had gone back downstairs for shop duties, the boy had decided to look in some of the smaller boxes in his room.  It seemed like a lot of these were collections of what the previous owner, Anora, had for her bakery.  Baking pots and pans, eating utensils, and disgustingly enough, an old recipe for "rat pie"   
  
He gagged and shoved the box away from him and focused his attention on another.  It was littered with old things he supposed belonged to Emory, but one of them didn't fit.  It was a bound book, black and caked with dust.   
  
"Emory" He shouted, hoping the man downstairs would hear him "What is this?"   
  
He heard footsteps coming up one by one and the sound of Emory's hand holding onto the banister for support as he stepped onto the landing, he stood in the doorway and looked at the boy, surrounded by boxes he wasn't supposed to be looking in.    
  
"Are you deaf or something?"   
  
"No, see, Sir" He started "I know you told me not to look in them but... I wanted to anyway."  
  
Emory shook his head and walked over to grab the book from the boy's outstretched hands "Huh" He said, flipping through it "It's weird, I've never seen this book before.  Must be mixed up with Anora's. I keep asking her to come and take her stuff away but she's always too busy to come down here"  
  
"It looks like a book of magic" He said, pointing at one of the strange symbols in the book "That's a sigil"  
  
Emory raised an eyebrow at the boy "And how do you know that?"   
  
"I read a lot" He answered with a shrug "Not much else to do"  
  
"How can you read? You're a street kid" Emory asked, blowing dust off the books pages to see what the drawings were of.  
  
The boy grabbed the book back and shoved it in the box, he stood and brushed dust off his dirty clothes, not that it would make much of a difference "Excuse me, Sir, just because I live on the streets does not mean I'm an uneducated swine.  I was taught by my mother to read when I was a child and since I've mostly been living on the streets, I read what I can find"  
  
"Or steal" Emory added  
  
"Or steal" he agreed  
  
"Fine, fine, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so judgemental anyway, It's not like I live the life of luxury over here, I run a shop for coffins on a street no one visits"  He turned "I gotta get back to the shop work, I'll bring up dinner for you in a bit."   
  
"Thanks" He said, He supposed he should be searching for some kind of clothes he could wear, since his outfit was covered in mud.  At least he could be thankful none of that woman's blood splattered onto him.   
  
He grabbed the book again, flipping through it's pages, it seemed to be written entirely in another language, along with the liberal usage of these sigils that lined the edges of each page.  
  
"Kid!" Emory shouted from downstairs "Get down here!"   
  
He stood up fast, dropping the book onto it's spine and rushing down the stairs.   
  
The book had opened up to a page written in a language the boy would understand once he saw it, a line of hand written text read out  
  
 _"THE PROPHECY OF ENLIGHTENMENT._  
  
 _In search of a conduit, we have traveled long and far and concluded that nothing close to what we have seen in our visions has come to pass, stars have not aligned and the whales have not sung.    I must report to the elders that we may never find what we have been searching for."_  
  
  



	4. These Pains That Haunt Our Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Orphan helps Emory in the shop, but when he tries to rest; memories of the past come back to haunt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extreme content warning for violence, swearing and child abuse, please read with caution.

The Orphan came down the stairs at Emory's insistence "Can you help me with this?" He asked the young man  
  
"Uh"  
  
"Come now Renfred, I just need you to hold the hammer while I steady this"  
  
He almost forgot the fake name he had given out to the man previously, he best learn to remember to react quick to being called that, he didn't want to get made.  
  
"What are you doing?" He asked Emory, Emory didn't look up from the table.  He had a tiny model of what was supposed to be a coffin "I'm fixing up this for the Greggory's, It has to be done by the end of the month"  
  
"Did someone in their family pass on?" He asked, walking to Emory's desk and holding onto the hammer as tightly as he could muster, he wasn't a weak person, exactly, but he was often underfed and his muscles weren't so well developed.  
  
"No, they want it for a plot they've arranged in the Hilton Graveyard.  See, these rich people, they plan out their death years in advance, they know what coffin they'll spend eternity in, they know what patch of grass will be dug up for them"  
  
"That seems unnecessary"  He replied, still holding the hammer.  
  
"It is, it's damn right wasteful, waste of time to me.  But they are paying me, so I do what I do."  Emory said, he was filing off some bit of wood from his model "Alright, give me the hammer"  
  
The boy gladly handed it over to the shop owner and thought wistfully how sad one's life must be to plan out their graves.   It all seemed a bit morbid to him, but what did he know? He was a beggar, he would spend eternity in an unmarked grave visited by no one.  
  
"Alright," Emory said, setting the hammer down and brushing off wood dust from the table "You can go back upstairs now, It'll be nightfall soon, I'll bring up dinner in an hour or so"  
  
"Wonderful" he responded, heading back to his new room.  He saw papers scattered everywhere and groaned, the wind must have acted up while he was downstairs, he struggled to pull the window down but it wouldn't budge, He didn't feel like calling Emory up here for this so he gave up and tended to the papers littering the floor. Putting them all back in the box and shoving the box underneath the bed frame.  
  
He laid there staring up at the ceiling, it was strange to him to be sleeping on a bed, the last bed he slept on was in his own home.  If you could call it a home.  
  
He remembered his drunkard mess of a father, the man was probably unaware that his son was even gone.  But a part of him felt something akin to guilt.   He sat up, why should he feel guilty for leaving the home of a man who would rather starve him than tell him he loved him?  
  
The last night he spent at home before running away was the hardest night of his life.  He had been nervously waiting for his father to return from the tavern. He knew what would happen, of course, he knew his father would find him, bruise him, mock his hair, whatever else he could do to break the kid's spirit.  So he hid in a closet when the man came drunkenly tumbling into their run-down home.  
  
"Get out here, right now! I know you're hiding and you need to get your ass out here."  He was wrecking the house, knocking things over, the boy could hear glass shattering from inside his hiding place.  Unfortunately, his father found him in the closet, he grabbed him by the shirt and tore it in several places before throwing him down on the floor.  
  
"Father," the boy said, grunting with pain "I see you are home. Did all the liquor in Morley run dry?"  
  
The man swayed, looking as if he could burst a blood vessel from the anger he was holding in, the anger he would soon release upon the boy.  
  
"Getting smart with me?" He slurred "Got no right to speak to me that way"  
  
The boy used this opportunity to kick the man in the shins, he heard a disturbing yet satisfying crack as the man's ankle buckled under his weight and he fell face first to the floor. He reached out for the boy "This fucking time, Imma kill you, you're blood spilling across this floor is gonna be the last thing you see!"  
  
The boy pulled himself up and backed into the wall, the man was down and couldn't get up but he was dragging himself closer, close enough to pull him down by the foot. He slammed his elbow into the table as he came down and felt his fathers fist against his nose, he knew before the hit that his nose would be broken.  His father was a stronger man than he and with the force of his punch, he was surprised it didn't knock out his teeth.  
  
He countered by using his good elbow to nudge the man in the jaw, to his surprise several of the man's teeth clattered to the floor and blood dripped from his mouth "Shit" He said "You're fucking dead, Kid"  
  
The boy pulled himself up once more using the table's edge and he kicked the man in the face, once, twice.  "I have a name" He screamed, he felt anguish, pain, he had lived through years of this man's abuse and was never able to fight back, he was tired of it. He would be free this time.  
  
"I am not worthless," He said, stepping hard on his fathers back "I am more of a man than you will ever be" He spit out blood at the man  
  
"You think that you go ahead and think that, you little rat. But you leave this house, I'm coming for you. I'll kill you, rip the scalp off your head, you'll wish I'd have killed you now. Your mother was such a fucking bitch for making you"  
  
The boy felt a searing pain in his body, and anger rising like bile in his throat. He needed to leave before the man was able to get at him. He stepped over the beaten and bloody body of his soon to be unconscious father and headed to his room, small, messy, he didn't have a lot to take with him, he grabbed anything he could fit into a sack and threw it over his shoulder, his nose was killing him and he also felt his jaw swelling.  He would have to find a way to steal something for his pain when he left.  He was able to make it out the back door before his father awoke.  
  
The whole city was his now, Morley never looked so bright.  He would finally be free.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A headcanon I read on tumblr said that the Outsider could easily be from Morley before a lot of Morley citizens immigrated to Karnaca, it fits with the time and I think that it would make sense if child Outsider lived in Morley prior to the events of his ritual sacrifice.  
> _____  
> "to get made/be made" is an old slang for "to be found out/discovered/recognized"


	5. First Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Orphan has his first night in his new home, while Emory reveals something about his life.

The rest of the evening was pretty uneventful for the Orphan, his thoughts on his escape from his broken home were interrupted by Emory bringing a food tray. It consisted of bread, cheese, a cup of what looked like Morley Mint tea and several uniformly cut sandwiches.

"Here you go" He said, setting the tray down "You have sweet onion and cheese sandwiches here"

"That sounds strange" He sat up in bed to inspect the food

"It's Morley, it's all strange here" Emory said gruffly "What are you doing?" He asked, raising an eyebrow "You think I poisoned it?"

"I'm a little paranoid"

"Never a bad thing to be paranoid, but you look like you haven't had a proper meal in ages" Emory said, patting him on the shoulder "So eat up, I'm headed back downstairs"

"Why are you being so nice to me, mister?"

"What's it to you?" Emory asked

"It's just that, as a street beggar, I have not known much kindness, I've been beaten and abused all my life, mister. Everyone has an ulterior motive."

"Alright, Look. I don't like to talk about this.... but" He looked around the room "This room was my son's room" He took a seat on the bed beside the boy, staring at the floor.

"Son? You have a child?"

"No, I don't. He died a couple years ago, he was about your age. He was actually one of many children who went missing and turned up dead a while later... It was the hardest time in my life, my son, my child... I just woke up one day and the boy wasn't here. I thought he'd come back, that he just ran away, tried to get the Morley officials to help but... It's a big city, and this is a small poor neighborhood. We get forgotten"

"I'm sorry" the Orphan said while looking down "I didn't-"

"You couldn't have known, my boy. I suppose I'm being nicer than usual, helping you out and letting you stay here... It's cause you remind me of my son"

"What was his name?"

"Arthur" Emory said proudly "He was my joy. When he disappeared I fell apart."

the Orphan put his hand on the man's shoulder "Did anyone ever find out what happened to these children?"

"I have no idea" He shrugged "It didn't seem like they cared that much, It wasn't rich kids neither, it was poor folk, homeless folk, people who wouldn't be missed if they disappeared."

"Did they just.... give up? Just like that?" he asked the man, even after all he had seen, he couldn't believe that people were able to be that cruel to others who were simply down on their luck. He wondered if anyone would miss him if he disappeared.

"Kid, you've been living this life for a while now, you tell me. They don't care about the beggars, the orphans, they care about the wealthy, the coin"

He got up off the bed "Now I have some more miniatures to make and some other ones to finish up, you eat and get some rest, alright?"

"Alright" the Orphan said "Thanks Emory"

The man chuckled "Yeah, whatever Kid."

Nightmares came to him that night, he fell into a fitful sleep and of dark hallways lined with what looked like severed doll heads, a chorus of screams from the children gone missing and he felt a hand over his head, pushing him down to his knees. He turned around and saw it was giant, cracked with blood and dirt. He stumbled to his back and tried to crawl away, bile and terror rising in his throat.

He awoke, breathing hard and covered in sweat, looking around at the room and it's unfamiliar surroundings, the cool night air blowing against his skin and rattling the door on it's hinges. What time was it? He couldn't hear anything from downstairs, was Emory still awake?

He pushed himself up out of bed and walked across the cool wood floor to the hallway, carefully and quietly walking down the staircase to check on Emory. What he saw was Emory sleeping at his work counter and the light of the candle flickering ever so slightly. He approached Emory and tapped him on the shoulder

"Emory" He whispered

The man's eyes opened and he groaned, sitting back up "Ugh, why do I fall asleep here."

"The better question is why did you leave a candle lit? It's dangerous"

"Well if the place burns down, we'll know what they will bury us in" Emory said with a sleepy chuckle

"Very humorous" the Orphan said "You should call it a night"

"I'll head up behind you" He said, pushing some stuff out of the way and closing his cash drawer "I really need to stop working at the counter" He shook his head "It gets so cluttered here I can barely take orders"

"How many orders do you get?"

"It fluctuates, but I have about five right now"

"You...have five?" He asked, his voice concerned

Emory nodded "Some of the kids who disappeared and had their bodies found. The constabulary doesn't care about them, but the parents, if they had em, they sure did"

He finished tidying up and came out from the counter, making sure the front was locked up "But that's enough depressing talk for one day."

"Sir, you make coffins. The depressing talk might not end"

"Ah, you're a funny one, aren't you?"

the boy nodded and Emory laughed "Lets get upstairs, tomorrow is another day"

The both headed up the stairs, the boy to his room and bed once more, fell into a more peaceful sleep, the nightmares already forgotten.

 


	6. On The Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Orphan questions why the would could be so harsh, and makes a potentially deadly mistake when he leaves the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is starting to get good, the Orphan leaves Emory's shop and meets a new friend, but is this a good thing or a bad thing? Who knows!

"So these people, did they all go missing around the same time?" He asked Emory the next morning as he sat in the back room, which was really just Emory's kitchen, he was eating breakfast. Olives, some sort of ham spread on a piece of toast and a drink of cold Morley Mint.

Emory shook his head "It's been happening around here for the last two years, Constable Leching, who was the head of the investigation on my son and many of the other cases said he got contact from other places that it was happening there too, Pailwick had some disappearances but no bodies ever turned up, Some here, some in Saggunto over in Serkonos"

"Did they ever find out who was responsible?" the Orphan asked as he shoved a chunk of goat cheese into his mouth, Morley was a great place to be if you cared at all about cheeses or soups. Hearty stews and delightful broths, they had it all. He had never been outside of Morley, but he had heard of meals from other places across the water, some of them sounded rather disgusting, though he supposed Morley had its fair share of disgusting sounding dishes.

"No they never did, I have to assume it was people in contact with each other, you know like a big gang, all across the waters. They all kidnapped the same kind of kids too, never rich, always poor, always kids like my Arthur."

"I can't believe they would just give up on the investigation like that," He said, pausing his eating and frowning "These are people"

"Well, now they are nothing but dirt on the street and dust in place of a name. People aren't going to remember some ratty street kids, they'll remember the richest or the meanest, I know it's not fair, but that's the way the world is"

"I refuse to believe that" He swallowed the bite of his toast and drank a sip of tea "I believe that there is good out there in the world, there is light."

Emory shook his head "I'm not about to take that away from you Kid, there aren't enough people who think like you do, but we've all been jaded and turned bitter for what we've lived through, what we've seen, and I don't wanna see you jaded that way, but I want you to live in the real world. This happens, every day, nobody cares about people like us"

the Orphan shook his head again "I won't let go of my belief mister, there are good people, and there is more good in this world than bad"

"How do you justify the bad, then? How can you justify what those kidnappers did? what people like your father do?"

"They were simply dealt a bad hand and I believe they took it out on the people and places around them. They were once good, too"

"You think these kidnappers ever had goodness in them?"

"Perhaps, long broken. But I don't think anyone starts bad."

Emory sighed "To each his own, kid. But just a word from the wise, Be careful because one day you're gonna regret being so trusting, that's how you become a victim."

"I am not a victim," the Orphan said, rising from his seat and angrily knocking over his tea "I will never be a victim again!" He had nothing more to say to Emory before he rushed up the stairs and slammed the door to the too-small room. The wind was whipping against the curtain Emory had nailed to the wall to keep people from snooping into his shop. the boy had doubts anyone would be able to see his room from the street as he was on the second floor, but he liked the sound it made when the curtain was smacked with gusts of wind.

It was the time of year when it started to get warm again, the icy chill had all but disappeared from the air, leaving only a slight breeze of warm air. It gave him hope that things would get better for him. The gusts of cold air throughout the previous months had done nothing but convince him he was to die there on the street. It was a hard life for someone to live, but especially out in the cold.

It wasn't so warm that he could leave the house without putting on his greatcoat though, It was this coat that had given him the strength to survive those obnoxiously chilly nights, it wasn't particularly fancy or lined with things such as fur or animal hide but it was better than nothing. He pulled it on over his day wear and took a breath. He was already feeling cooped up in this small room.

He had no reason to lose his temper at Emory, the man was only trying to help, but he felt on edge, the knowledge that there were many people getting kidnapped and never found, it scared him. What if he was next?

Logically he knew going outside would do nothing to protect him from getting taken, but he was in a bad mood from lack of sleep and he needed some fresh air. He opened the door to the small wardrobe and took out an old knitted hat, placing it firmly atop his head. He would climb out the window and down the buildings heating pipes to the street below. He pushed the curtains out of the way and lowered himself backward out the window, it wasn't the safest thing, and he felt his stomach lurch when he saw the ground beneath him. If he fell, he would break every bone in his body.

He slowed his breathing to calm himself and carefully made it the rest of the way down, now he was reading to go about the town. It had been two days since he was out and about. He knew Emory would probably be angry with him for leaving, but the man wasn't his parent or legal caretaker so it wasn't a bother to him.

He steered out of the side alley and onto the streets, Morley Proper was across the bridge, it was where all the fancy little shops were and the people stupid enough to leave their moneybags out for people like him to nick. He noticed something about the rich folk, they never paid mind to even the largest amounts of money being stolen from them. Not one peep, they never even notice it's gone.

He had been living on the street for a while now, and knew the ins and outs of what to do, where to go and how to not get caught, but it had taken him a while to learn it and once he had tried to rip off this man's money right from his bag, the man was enormous compared to him and he had grabbed the Orphan's hand, twisting his fingers back until they each snapped. His fingers never properly healed after that and were always a bit crooked looking. He looked over towards the direction of the bridge, there were armed constables at the beginning and end.

They had been placed there a while back when ruffians from the low part of town caused havoc with some of the more rich citizens, the Orphan shook his head, splitting up a town into rich and poor neighborhoods was abysmal. He was going to sneak into the proper part of town and get a bit of coin. He'd have to find a place to hide it from Emory, of course.

He ducked behind an old abandoned building and scanned the area near the bridge, not a lot of foot traffic, so he couldn't sneak in with someone dressed fancier. He supposed he could force bravado, but that had only worked once or twice in the past, right now he looked the lowest class you could look. His greatcoat was riddled with holes and tears from top to bottom and the clothes he wore underneath were scuffed up with dirt marks.

He spotted a rock near his foot, if he threw this hard enough he could potentially cause a distraction, He bent down to pick up the rock when a hand grabbed his arm, he froze, panic that another guard he had missed was going to kick him in the stomach, a feat he had endured twice before while traversing the city.

"Are you stupid?" a young sounding voice said, the Orphan turned to face the girl who grabbed his arm "Because if you throw that rock at that man, he's going to shoot you in the face" She shook her head "Come on" She pulled him towards the back alley and only when they were out of earshot of the constables she took a deep bow and straightened up

"Hi," She said with a smile "The name is Theresa, but you can call me Tessa."

The Orphan eyed her curiously "I've never seen you around here" He had met a lot of other street kids, some of them even helped him steal coin and food, but friendships formed on the street never lasted long, especially for ones like him, sometimes he felt like people were afraid of him. She shrugged "You know everyone around here? I didn't think so kid."

She sat on a dusty old pile of boxes that had likely been thrown out from one of the shops around them and pulled her hair behind her, tying it off with a ribbon she grabbed out of her pocket "What's your name?"

"Eugene," He said, this time he was telling the truth, he didn't feel like he had a reason to lie to her

"You have a last name?"

"Wyler"

"So, Eugene Wyler, you want to know the secret to getting across that bridge with those armed oafs?"

"I do not see why you would help me, are you just trying to trick me so you can get all the coin there is to steal over there?"

"No!" She said "Of course not. I don't have many friends around here, and you remind me of myself at that age"

Eugene raised his eyebrow at her "You look younger than I am"

"I'm fourteen"

"I'm almost fifteen" he countered with a smirk

"Okay, fine, you are older. But I'm smarter, come on. I'll take you to my secret little hideout, I have a way to get across the bridge real easy and we split whatever we find in Proper" She extended her hand "We have a deal?"

"Deal" He took her hand

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's pretty risky giving him a true name, but his insistence that he has a name becomes pretty important in the next couple chapters and it's something he's going to struggle with when he has his name taken away.


	7. Through the Tunnels, Into Light.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the Orphan and his new friend infiltrate the home of illustrious aristocrats Dorotea and Bucca Walsh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Extreme references to child abuse, both physical and mental as well as a failed pregnancy.

 

He let his new friend drag him through the alley and to whatever secret hideout she claimed to have had.  He didn't know if he should trust her, but that was how he felt about everyone he met, He was still wary of trusting Emory at times.  It felt like the man wasn't being completely honest with him.  
  
Tessa stopped and he nearly walked right into her, she indicated a missing grate to an open sewer passage "You want me to crawl around in the sewers?"  She nodded  
  
"You haven't lived unless you've walked through there," She said "It's a rite of passage for us urchins.  The aristocrats already call us sewer trash. It's fitting"  She said with a shrug  
  
Eugene crouched down "How does it feel to be so bitter?" he asked her as she crawled into the sewers behind him, she responded with a hearty laugh and elbowed him in the posterior.  "How long have you been out on the street?" She asked him  
  
He thought on this for a moment, he left home when he was all but ten years old, though he had never had a true home and spent most of his time before that out on the street as well, even when his mother was alive, his father had always been unkind to him, he berated him emotionally, hurt him physically.  Eugene forcibly remembered his fifth year birthday.  His mother had gone out of her way to decorate the home even in her sickness and she had even brought home a bread loaf that was slightly sweet. It was traditional to have some form of sweet bread for one's coming of a new age.  And he had never had one before as it was too hard for younger children to digest.  
  
But his mother had taken him for a check-up, the physician said that he should be fine to eat harder, denser foods now that his teeth were properly coming in.  So she had brought the sweet bread, even giving him a small gift, which was a tradition taken from the ancient people who settled these Isles.  
  
He recalled that the gift was a tiny sculpture made of clay, as many things were, it was of a whale.  Eugene remembered that when he was growing up he was fascinated by the things, large brute looking creatures that swam gracefully through the waters, he had read about these creatures,  scholars described what whales should look like based on the studies of bones washed up in the sands and mud.  Large creatures that are mostly misunderstood, Eugene felt a kind of kindred connection to them.  
  
He remembered one passage from a book he had read on whales when he was younger speak of whales as if they were a thing to be feared, to be avoided, rather than studied and understood.  
  
_In the sea, which is mighty and vast, are many kinds of fish, such as the turbot, the sturgeon, and the porpoise. But there is one monster, very treacherous and dangerous. It is a bad neighbor for sailors. The upper part of its back looks like sand, and when it rises from the sea, the Mariners think it is an island. Deceived by its size they sail toward it for refuge, when the storm comes upon them. They cast anchor, disembark upon the back of the whale, cook their food, build a fire, and in order to fasten their boat they drive great stakes into what seems to them to be sand. When the monster feels the heat of the fire which burns upon its back, it plunges down into the depths of the sea, and drags the ship and all the people after it. When the fish is hungry it opens its mouth very wide, and breathes forth an exceedingly sweet odor. Then all the little fish stream thither, and, allured by the sweet smell, crowd into its throat. Then the whale closes its jaws and swallows them into its stomach, which is as wide as a valley_  
  
Eugene remembered his mother handing him a gently but messily wrapped package that carried the clay whale sculpture, it looked like the messy sketches of whales that professors had drawn, closer to what they truly looked like and not as many assumed, a giant fish.   He had loved it, even at his young age, his eyes widened and he giggled as he grabbed it.   He inspected it, it was beautiful, perfect.  He rarely ever felt good in his young life, but he remembered this as being one of his happiest memories.  
  
Until his father came home with ale on his breath and a swagger in his step that could only mean one thing, His mother quickly snatched the figure away from him, hiding it somewhere so his father wouldn't snap it in half.  For his fifth year, he watched his father beat his mother.  She had been gaining weight steadily when he was younger, but after this night, the weight had disappeared.  He always thought it was the stress of living with a drunkard, but now he realized she must have been with child.  
  
"Hello?" Tessa's voice brought him back to reality, the smell of the sewers overpowering and almost painful to his nose.  He could throw up right then and there if he had enough in his stomach, as it was, he could only heave heavily, gagging on his own tongue.    
  
"You were out for a while," She said "You went into some kind of trance or something..." The sewer passage up ahead was wide enough so the two of them could crawl side by side, He blinked hard and took a deep breath  
  
"I'm fine," He said "I just get these... these episodes, sometimes"  
  
"You sound like my dad," She said, "He'd get episodes where he wouldn't speak for long periods of time." She frowned "So what about my question?"  
  
"I've been on the street for a while" He answered, "What about you?"  
  
"Since I was eight"  
  
"You have two years on me"  
  
"Well my mom was a drunk and after my father offed himself, she didn't want a whore child in her home."  She said lackadaisically, She seemed emotionally detached from the horribleness in the statement "My mother was, is... She's not a nice woman. She beat the crap out of my dad and me on almost a daily basis"  
  
He stopped crawling forward and took a sideways glance at her "It's the same for me" He said "My dad is the drunk though, my mom is dead"  
  
"That sucks," She said "Wish my dad was still alive"  
  
Eugene wondered on that for a moment, would things be different if his mother was still with them? Or would his father merely have sent her into an early grave with his brutal beatings?   He recalled that his life got harder after his mother's passing, with fewer people in the home, there was more focus on him being the target for his fathers drunken and angry fists.   He felt sick again, and it wasn't because the acrid rotting smell lingering in the air around him.  
  
"C'est Une vie horrible," Tessa said, the language of Morley was lyrical and song like to others from around the waters, But many of them spoke perfectly in the tongues of natives from Gristol.  During years prior, many of the Gristol natives had come to Morley to trade, to teach their language and to be what they called good neighbors.  That was until they stormed the gates and brutally murdered as many Morleyians as possible.  A war, He supposed friendship wasn't always true.  
  
It had started before his grand relatives were born, and ended after his father was already turning five.  Gristol had taken Morley apart, storming to the city, killing the Bishop and burning down the church.  Eugene read that it took a long time to rebuild the city, what had been lost could never be recovered.  
  
Because of the former friendship and long occupation of the forces that tore Morley to pieces, their language had become most spoken in the city, though many people spoke both languages, Eugene always spoke Morlian when he was scared, but most of the time he spoke the language of Gristol.  
  
"Je n'ai jamais été heureux" He agreed, sadly.  The pair kept crawling side by side in the sewers until they came to a gate stopping them from moving any further, she pushed her feet against it, kicking it lightly until it was easily able to move out of the way.  "There's a bit of a drop, be careful!" She said  
  
"Where is this?" He asked, letting her go first and peering over the edge, it looked like a room where the gas heaters were usually kept in fancier looking homes.  
  
She looked up at him from the floor "It's the cellar of Bucca and Dorotea Walsh" She grinned "I know all the sewer entrances in this city, well most of them, I happened on this one by mistake a couple of weeks ago and still haven't had the nerve to steal shit"  
  
"Bucca?" He asked, positioning himself backward so he could slide his legs out of the gate opening, he landed with a thud on both knees, thankfully there was a pile of dusty old bed coverings and mattresses "Who names their child Bucca?"  
  
Tessa shook her head "Rich people have crazy names, I'm telling you.  But they have even crazier shit, I heard the Walsh's are loaded" She looked around "There's gotta be like a staircase or a dumbwaiter or something to get us up to the other levels"  
  
"You think we're honestly going to be able to steal shit without anyone noticing we are here?" He asked, sitting back on the dusty beds and rubbing his knees, which had been bruised from a fall he had endured from a window a few days prior to the accident in front of Emory's shop  
  
"We gotta be quiet, but yeah I think we can" She stretched out her arms, Eugene felt like he had been squished into himself whilst crawling through the vent, he did the same, suddenly the pair heard noises from the room near them.  Tessa motioned for him to hide and Eugene looked around, ducking behind an old looking armoire laying on its side and covered with dust.   The sounds of footsteps came into the room, He assumed the room was some sort of storage room for the things they didn't want on display.  He knew enough about aristocrats that the most important thing to them besides the coin they had, was spending the coin on frivolous things they didn't need.  
  
"I'm getting quite sick of Dorotea's attitude towards us working folk," a man's voice said "The woman's absolutely maddening"  
  
"Oh I agree, I wish I could just throw a rotting fig right in her mouth and get her to shut up," a woman's voice said, flush with anger and irritation.  
  
"She's a piss pot," The man said "I swear by this end I will be out of here, working for a better family, possibly the Ashfords"  
  
"Oh the Ashfords aren't any better" the woman replied "I hear they bath in their own urine"  
  
"Mathilda, where the hell did you hear such a disgusting thing like that?" the man asked  
  
"I hear it around, spread like a disease in the streets.  Maybe the rats told me" She said sarcastically  
  
"We'd better get back or the old woman will have a heart flutter at our absence," the man said, clearly ignoring his friend's sarcasm  
  
"Oh her heart can flutter on to Gristol for all I care," She said, the two kept talking, but their voices were getting further away and Eugene took this opportunity to peak around the armoire.  The room was empty once more save for him and Tessa, who was on the other side ducked behind what looked like stacks of partially used coal bricks.  
  
She walked over to him and kicked at the armoire "Why do rich people buy this shit if they are just going to throw it away?"   She kicked at it again angrily    
  
"Níor cheart go n-éireodh leo" She spat at the armoire "Let's get upstairs, sneak around a bit and steal these people's junk"  She smiled at him "Come on, it'll be fun"  
  
"Aren't you worried about getting in trouble?" He asked, taking a slow step to follow her out into the walking path in the hall  
  
She crouched down and peeked through the tiny hole normally used for keys and the like, only rich households had them installed, Eugene wondered why people would need to lock doors inside their own home.   Tessa turned back to him "No, I'm not.  There is nobody who cares where we are or what we do"  
  
"I'd assume the constables care," He said with a shrug  
  
"I'd sooner assume they care more about getting fat off jellied ox tongue and those fancy little-powered sticks they eat," She said "It doesn't matter, we're quick, we'll get what we can find and get out before anyone knows we're here"  
  
He relented, she was right, the pair of them could outrun any guard or their pet wolves, But he would have to figure out how to hide whatever he stole from Emory.  He felt a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought of Emory, he was going to be worried about him, he shook it off and followed Tessa through the halls, He'd just have to come up with a convincing lie.  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorotea and Bucca are a reference to Dorotea Bucca who was an Italian physician in 1390. Their last name "Walsh" is taken from another physician from the 1800s, James Joseph Walsh. 
> 
> The language that Tessa and Eugene speak is very obviously french, Morley is based on various places, most notably it has Irish and Scottish vibes to it, but there could also be some french inspiration. Both France and Ireland are really artistically driven, interested in music and poetry and the like, historically speaking, so it fits with Morley. 
> 
> I'll alternate between french words and irish/gaelic terms for the language as they are both rather "lyrical and poetic" and fit together quite nicely. Translations are from google, so it's not always 100%, but context will show you what it's about more often than not. 
> 
> The passage about whales Eugene remembers is a passage from a Bestiaire written by Guillaume Le Clerc in 1210
> 
> I know the wiki describes the people of natives of Morley to be tall, bulky and usually blonde, but not everyone fits that label, plus the Island has gone through a lot of changes in over four thousand years, people back then probably did look quite different. 
> 
> The mention of the Morley and Gristol war is referencing France and it's many wars, including the fact that France was invaded by vikings who killed their bishop and burned down their church, In this instance, the Bishop and church Eugene thinks about are of a non descript worshipping religious sect that I'll get into later, It's really interesting to think about the people of the Isles having worshipped something as in the modern era of Dishonored, they simply worship and pray to the scriptures and the Abbey, or they secretly worship the Outsider and the Void. I thought it would be cool to take a look at what a more standard religion would look like in this world. 
> 
> Tessa is -slightly- based off Selina Kyle from the series Gotham (portrayed by Camren Bicondova) She also kind of looks like her! But she's a lot less standoffish and tsundere than Selina is, she's obviously very bitter, but she's also kind to Eugene and helpful. 
> 
> I'm using a mix of things from the middle ages and from other eras and cultures to portray what life in Morley must have been like four thousand years prior to the Kaldwin line, some things may not match up to how they are in real life, but Dishonored is fictional and many things can just be attributed to the fact that even back in these times for the Isles, they were probably more developed than the real life counterparts in the same time period. (or around the same time period)
> 
> TRANSLATIONS (By google translate, so it might not be on the nose, but it's close enough for the story, I don't have time to learn proper french and Irish gaelic :P)
> 
> "C'est Une vie horrible," = It's a horrible life  
> "Je n'ai jamais été heureux" = "I have never been happy"  
> "Níor cheart go n-éireodh leo" (Irish gaelic) = "They should not suceed" 
> 
> Morleyian is the name of the people, I've made "morlian" the name of their language so it's not confusing. 
> 
> They speak both Morlian and whatever language Gristol speaks (Which is english, but I can't call it english because it's not england lol, Gristolese? I don't know, I'll figure it out later) 
> 
> Mathilda's sarcastic "Maybe the rats told me" is a reference to Rat Whispers from DOTO, Billie's creepy ability to listen to what the rats around her are saying.


	8. The Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere else, a woman makes a decision.

By the light of candles two women read through pages of text, old and new, and furiously scribbled down notes of their own.   One woman looked up to the other and spoke for the first time in hours  
  
"We are no closer now than we were before." She said with a groan, they had been studying for a very long time, the stars, the whales, and nothing would come of it, their leader had insisted they keep trying, that everything would "fall into place" but it had been months for her, and she had been told some of the others had spent years of their lives looking for the right child.  
  
Many young ones had been taken from the streets, tested, as a matter of fact, they had just recently found a new one taken right from the streets of a small village outside of Serkonos, a young boy of about ten years old, pale blue eyes and light brown hair.  She was supposed to join the others later for the tests, but she was anxious about it.  He wouldn't be the right one either, she had seen many come and many disappear, none of them holding the importance that they needed for what would come.  
  
She sighed and shut her book "I've read through this at least six times"  
  
The other woman followed suit "Alright, fine. We should go join the others and come back to this later."  
  
The two woman rose from their seating and made their way through the compound, this place was old, old and crumbling with dust.   They were headed to the others who were located in a circular room with a single chair in the center, the boy they had stolen was tied to this chair.  He was young, she almost thought he was too young for this.  
  
She shook herself, _No, mustn't have thoughts such as those, This is what we must do._  
  
They joined the circle, the others were watching the child intently, one of the older members of the cult stepped forward.  His name was Elathor.  
  
"Blessings be," He said to all "We gather again to research and study our findings, today brings us a small child. from the north of Serkonos, He won't speak, I believe he has been scared into silence.  But no matter of that. He is another in a long line of subjects.  Prepare the tests"  
  
The woman watched as the other members prepared the boy for his tests, which included reciting words in a script she couldn't read, cutting the boys hand into a bowl of black dust and painting it over his face.  He was silent through it all, the woman felt her heart sinking as she looked at him.  
  
 _He is so young..._ She thought  
  
 _Too young..._  
  
When the boy completed his tests, they concluded that he wasn't what they were looking for, and as with all of the ones that weren't good enough, his destiny was to be killed.  The woman watched as they doused the boy with a flammable substance, laying him down in his white gown.   She was to hold the torch that lit the body this time, she stepped forward and grabbed the torch from Elathor silently, everyone watching.  This wasn't her first time, but she wished that it was her last.  
  
She set the torch upon the boy and watched as he slowly burned, the last things his eyes saw was her face looking upon his. His helpless blue eyes said all she needed to know  
  
She leaned down to the boy and whispered "I'm so sorry",  Standing up and looking around to make sure nobody else could hear.  She walked away from the burning body and resolved that tonight would be her last night here.  
  



	9. Because We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past haunts Eugene after a night of questionable actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Trigger warning for mention and graphic description of physical and emotional abuse against a child.

By the time he and Tessa were through pilfering the home of Dorotea and Bucca, it was close to past dark, Eugene nervously bit his fingernails as he watched Tessa look around a corner to check if anyone was there.

They were loaded down with what they stole, and they wouldn't be able to escape through the vents anymore, Tessa had come up with the idea to wait for everyone to head off to their chambers for the night and sneak out the front door. He thought this was insane, but here he was, waiting.

"There's just a couple of servants left awake, Dorotea and Bucca should be in bed by now," She said

"Separate beds, you mean," Eugene said with a snort, they had discovered a lot about this married couple tonight, more than he would have ever wished to know. She responded with a stifled laugh and reached over to hit him. Apparently, Dorotea was always "right and randy" when it came to be the fall of dark, but Bucca always took "ill". Rather than discuss his inability to be attracted to his wife and engage in what he referred to as "carnal pleasures" He would rather do it with several of the women servants, and even some of the male servants.

Eugene was sorry he wouldn't be back here to see the man get caught in his infidelity. He shook his head to himself, People always lie to themselves to be in positions of power. Whether it's a union of convenience, or as in the case of their king himself, lies about what he does being for the best of Morley, despite not being in the best interest of people like Eugene, and Tessa.

"Come on" Tessa muttered, there was one servant who had not yet gone to the servant's chambers, she was dusting the same spot of the spiral staircase that she had dusted many times before. Eugene and Tessa were crouched in a small alcove that housed two large statues facing the front door. Eugene supposed that the aristocrats who owned this home wanted to make visitors think they were cultured with the expanse of decor, statues, paintings and more.

He scoffed, how transparent.

Tessa nudged him in the ribs, he felt the air being knocked out of his lungs as she pointed towards the door. The coast was clear, he held his side as they hastily made a run for it, turning the knob of the door and rushing out into the night.

He felt exhilarated, alive. He had never felt this way in the home of his father, he had never felt this way in his whole miserable life. They ran far from the home, far away from the guards who were stationed outside the front door, and their mangy little wolves, outrunning them felt like a feat, he felt like he was soaring through the air and swimming through all the depths in the sea.

When they finally stopped running, he caught his breath and looked at Tessa "Where to?"

"Well," She said with a shrug, she looked calm and collected despite the physical exertion. "I mean, you should be getting back to your... shop"

"Right" He said "My shop" Though he hadn't lied to Tessa about his name, he did lie to her about why he was staying with Emory, he told her that Emory was his uncle and he was staying there for a while, just until the heat died down from an accident he was involved in. He didn't tell her about that either.

"Hope you don't think less of me because I'm staying in a home," He said

"Of course not, no matter where you and I go in our lives. We're always gonna be street filth. And I've seen that man's shop, he ain't keeping a mansion, that's for sure" She laughed

"I suppose not" He agreed "I'll.. uh... see you around, I guess?"

"You guessed right" She smiled before dashing off between buildings and dark alleyways, Eugene simply shrugged and made his way back to Emory's shop. He was thinking about what he would tell him, a good lie, he needed a good lie... something that sounded-

"What the HELL are you doing!?"

Eugene almost felt like time stood still, he knew he needed to look around, he knew that he was going to eventually. But right now he wanted to live in the moment where he didn't look at the man behind him.

Time sped up as he felt the man grab him by the wrist and drag him towards the shop, He felt a sick kind of memory, his mind went blank and he felt like he did when he accidentally killed that woman. He fought against Emory and punched the man right in the nose, harder than he should have. Emory lost his balance and fell to the pavement.

"Shit," Eugene said, gasping "Shit!" He knelt down beside the man to check that he was still breathing, He was, but the hit against the pavement must have knocked him unconscious. Eugene looked around "How the hell am I supposed to get him upstairs?" He muttered. He stood up and tried to pull the man towards the shop. The weight of his unconscious body was impossible to move like this. Eugene wasn't exactly burly or anything like that.

He tugged on the man's arm "Wake....up" he groaned. He dropped the dead weight of the arm and kicked Emory, nothing. Shit, how hard did he hit his head? Eugene felt panic, a different kind of fear than the one that started before his father would come home from the various pubs, bars, taverns. He'd been to them all....

He remembered one night, he was nine years old and his mother had been dead for two years, His father came home one night, sober as he'd ever been. Eugene remembered being afraid, thinking it was a trap. His father had beckoned to him. "Come over here" It wasn't the drunken bellow Eugene had heard for the past nine years of his life, it was a low, almost sad request. But it scared him even more.

He braced himself and sat on the small couch near his father.

"Your mother was the love of my life." He said, he looked distraught, Eugene looked at his father. It had been a while since he had seen the man up close when he wasn't belligerently inebriated. He had wrinkles creased into his forehead and shadows lay across his eyes like pigment mixed with the alcohols he drowned himself in.

"The moment... we had you" Eugene felt his heart sink, even sober... his father hated him "Everything went to hell. You wrecked my wife's health, mental and physical. She almost died giving birth to you."

"And you wreck my health, thanks for passing that on" Eugene pushed himself up from the couch

"You do not get to speak to your own father that way," The man said, his voice was laced with anger. He was never sober, even when he wasn't drinking, he was drunk on his own anger and hate, hate for his child.

Eugene felt the tears welling behind his eyes, burning until he blinked them away "I do not get to speak to you with disrespect and yet you get to leave these welts and bruises on my body?" He didn't turn around to face the man, he never wanted to see that ugly face again.

But he had no choice.

His father grabbed him, squeezed his wrist like he was trying to break it. He gasped, the pain was shooting up his arm and it took his breath away.

"Stop!" He screamed, he remembered his throat was raw from the screaming as his father dragged him down the hallway and locked him in his room, barricading the door with immovable objects, shelves, chairs. He was in that room for days, days turned longer, he didn't eat, he couldn't sleep. He was a prisoner in his own home, with a man who never fathered him, never even loved him.

He came to, the past making way for the present again, He was somehow inside with Emory's unconscious body on the floor of the shop. He slid down against the wall and hugged his knees to his chest, his body overwhelmed with exhaustion from the night, and his mind overwhelmed by the memories of his father.

He started to cry, not a soft or light cry when a tear rolls down your cheek, but the kind that hurts down to your core, his sobs echoed through the empty shop. Anyone who walked by would be able to hear the pained wailing.

He was alone.

 

 


	10. Prophecy Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere else, a man has a vision and he and his family set out to Morley.

**A** _madeus Welk_ stood staring over his fine men and women, some would call them "cultists" But he simply called them _family_.   Over the course of several years he had built quite a large family, some would come and go of course... But the love was forever, eternal, beautiful.

They were looking for a new member of this fine family, someone to share in the riches and joy, a protector, _a sacrificial lamb._   But in that sacrifice, the chosen would know true unending love from his or her family.   The texts were vague enough so that they had to search far and wide for the perfect specimen, but he believed they were closer than they had ever been before.  When they had burned the last child alive, he knew that whoever came after that must be the one. 

Though he was searching for a lamb, it would be a loved lamb.  He smiled at the thought of the child being brought into their little home.  That child would be so cared for, would be so loved.   He was certain this child would be forever grateful for what they would play a part in.

He took a deep breath as one of his family approached him, a mousy haired looking man named Hobart.  He looked as though he wished to speak, but those in his family did not speak without permission from Amadeus himself.  "You may speak, brother"

Hobart looked relieved "There is news, some of the last text mentioned in these prophecy... They refer to certain events."  He twiddled his thumbs nervously, Amadeus put a hand to the mans shoulder

"There is no need to be nervous around me, brother.  We are family. Speak your mind, no illness of the mind or shaking of the body"  The man seemed to fall completely at ease as if by some sort of magic, the shaking and trembling in his nervous bones gave way to a blissful relaxation, one that the man had never known in his life.  Amadeus smiled. 

"Tell me of these events" He asked of the man, motioning for him to sit beside him in one of the comfortable chairs Amadeus would sit in while looking upon his family.  While thinking about the prophecy, or otherwise dreaming of the day they found the child.

"Storms, major storms... Storms like the oceans have never seen before" Hobart recited, it was as if he was reading from a written script, memorizing each line as though he were in a play. His voice was, empty, one outside of the family may believe the man was sleep-walking or something.

"They are dying, they are dead, littering the streets... Birds falling from the sky."  He continued, Amadeus leaned forward wit interest and looked at the man "Go on" He said, he had no reason to, of course.  The man would do as he wished.

"Fish, the seas shall swell with their death, mysterious, the fisherman and women are at a loss."  His eyes were open but he had no focus, he was simply staring into oblivion. 

The members of this large family were constantly entering meditative states to see what they could find out about children for the sacrifice, many times before it had given them the wrong visions, lead them down the wrong path... But Amadeus gave a start when he saw it as clear as day... Images flashed through his mind.

It was a dark alley, a woman lay dead on the pavement and a child run scared. He recognized those cobbled streets.

He came to, shaking himself as he stood... He made his way slowly down the spiraling staircase and his arms rose high above his head as his voice boomed out among the masses "Brothers and sisters of the Envisioned" He spoke, he knew his voice sent shivers up the spines of everyone in that room.  Even poor Hobart.

"I have had an enlightening vision"  He revealed "Our child awaits us on the Island of Morley."

A sea of voices cried out in relief, in astonishment, but one woman was not cheering, one woman, was frowning.

"Hello young sister" Amadeus said, approaching her, she was wearing a beautiful white gown "Were you the one who held the torch this afternoon?"

She nodded silently

"Are you not excited about this turn of events?"

She shook her head "Of course I am, my Brother" She seemed dishonest, but she smiled anyway. 

"Good, because as you know, as you _all_ know.  We do not tolerate anyone who has second thoughts, what we are doing here is for the greater good and shall shape the land for years to come.  We shall find our lamb, and lead him home."

Everyone cheered as Amadeus walked around sermonizing and describing the visions in great detail, Everyone except the sister in the white gown. 

 

 


	11. Unforgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene suffers a betrayal as a secret he had struggled to keep is revealed en masse.

Eugene had fast fallen asleep, sobbing himself into exhaustion, he had passed out.  He woke up in his bed, covered with a thick blanket and sat up.  "Huh?" He looked around, the room was empty and his door was shut, the window was open and the cool morning air blew in.  He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and saw on the table near him, a plate of fruits, a pastry and a mix and match of cut and seasoned potatoes with sliced plantains sitting on the side, they appeared to be cooked in oils.   
  
He had never had breakfast before, not served to him, not left for him.  When he lived at home growing up he remembered his parents never bothered to check up if he was hungry, if they had food, he never got any of it.  He had to pry the floorboards in his room up to hide things he would steal while his parents were out.   
  
It was usually small things that nobody would miss, a cookie here, a slice of bread there.   
  
When he started living on the street he got into the mugging business, It wasn't something he was proud of, but he needed to eat.  He reasoned with himself that if they didn't notice or care to search for it, they didn't deserve it to begin with.   
  
He sat up in bed and grabbed the plate, he ate like he hadn't had a proper meal in weeks, and to be fair, before he met Emory, he hadn't.  He was still "street hungry".  He had no idea how long this arrangement with Emory would last, he would need to eat as much as possible.    
  
He wouldn't be surprised if Emory kicked him out today, after what he did the previous night.  
  
He was scared to leave his room, but he didn't have to wait long for Emory to come, lightly knocking at the door "Are you awake in there?"  
  
"Come in," He said through a mouthful of potatoes  
  
Emory crossed into the room and Eugene noticed that he left the door open, this was something that his father never did, Eugene always knew when a particularly bad beating was coming because his father would come into his room and shut the door. If he was really drunk and angry, he would slam it.   One time, he broke the door down to get to his son.   
  
He continued eating his potatoes, they tasted... they tasted unlike anything he had ever eaten before, Emory may have lived on the poor side of town, but he sure had fancy rich person food.   
  
Though, he thought, a rat on a skewer sounded fancy enough to a kid like him.  He looked at Emory and swallowed hard "I am really sorry about last night Emory" He said, shoving more of the food into his mouth, at this point he thought it would be more efficient to use his hands to eat, but he continued with the utensils.    
  
Emory sat down in the chair he grabbed from the other side of the room, it looked uncomfortable, Eugene had never sat in it.    
  
"Look, I know you've had a hard life"  At this, Eugene put his hand up "No," He said "Don't do this, don't pretend you have any idea what I have been through"   
  
He set his fork on the plate and set it back on the table, He scooted off the bed and went over to the window "I have never... had a family" He said, "I have never had someone lovingly seeing me off to bed, or telling me stories..." He didn't turn around, didn't want Emory to see him so emotional "You know I love stories, I do, when I was younger... stories were all I had. Books I found, books I stole.  Stories kept me sane in a home without love."   
  
"I used to tell my son stories every night," Emory said, he spoke softly, as if his voice were light footsteps upon a rickety and loud floor.  "I used to... He wouldn't go to sleep if I didn't stay in the room with him, He was so scared of the dark"  
  
Eugene walked back over to the bed, sitting on it and facing Emory, the man looked a mess after last night, he had a large bump on his head and a bruise where Eugene had punched him in the eye.     
  
"I'm not afraid of the dark," Eugene said "I lost that fear when I looked my father in the eye every day, when you see true darkness, you no longer fear it"  He started to cry, warm tears running down the length of his face.  Emory came over and put his arm around him.  "You're not alone anymore," He said "You are not unloved"  
  
Eugene looked up at the man through his tears, he was hugging him, He hadn't felt a hug for so long.  He was struggling to remember if his parents ever even cared enough to hug him.  Physical contact made him nervous because most of the physical contact he had ever had was his father hurting him.   He felt so tense like at any moment this warmth would go away.  
  
"Your father was an awful man," Emory said "He didn't deserve having a child, especially not one like you.  You are a good kid"  
  
Eugene closed his eyes, for once in his lonely existence, he felt something close to love.  
  
* * * *  
  
Eugene kept out of trouble for quite some time, it was all but quiet in the neighborhood.  He would stay in the house, even rejecting Tessa's invitations to go fence hoping to the fancy parts of town to steal rich people's crap.  He still had the stuff he nicked from the Bucca Household sitting underneath a floorboard he pried up in his room.  
  
"Are you serious?" Tessa said "Why do you want to stay around here?  Come on, ask your uncle if you can come out. We ain't even got to steal shit today, There are some people I want you to meet"  
  
Eugene sighed "Fine, but if you get me in as much trouble as you did last time, I'm dragging you back here with me so Emory knows who's really responsible for that"  
  
"Fair enough"  Eugene shut the door and made his way to the staircase at the back of the shop, Emory came out of the storage room with a box full of odds and ends "Who was at the door?"  
  
"A friend"  
  
"That girl who kept you out all night weeks past?" Emory asked, gently placing the box on the counter top "I don't want you to be around her, she's a bad influence"  
  
"Don't worry about it, I made her promise she's not going to get me in trouble again"  
  
Emory sighed "Ugh, fine, but come back before dark fall. I need help with some of these boxes.  Have to find something for my new project but there's too many to go it alone"  
  
"Alright," Eugene said, his heart fluttered with excitement, he hadn't left the house in quite some time, it wasn't as if Emory was keeping him hostage, it was that he felt rather comfortable just being able to have a place he could stay.  A place where he felt he belonged.  
  
He grabbed a coat from upstairs to protect him from the rain and headed out to the side alley to meet Tessa.   It was raining harder than he thought, it pelted against the sidewalk and filled up warped parts of the ground with water, like a small lake.  
  
The weather had been strange lately, there had been more storms than he could ever remember and they seemed to be getting angrier by the day.  Maybe it was just the seasons changing, he remembered reading about weather becoming more unpredictable with different seasons.  
  
"Hiya," Tessa said, "Your uncle say it was okay?"  Eugene nodded  
  
"Okay cool," She responded, "I'm going to take you to meet the crew, it's a bunch of kids I've known on the street since I was eight, kind of like a little family."  She took his hand and led him through the rainy streets and dark alleyways until they came to the part of town that people were normally warned to stay away from, the urchins practically ran this part of town.  Eugene had been here before, but he ran into some bad luck when he nicked a coin bag from a constable.   Luckily he was able to outrun the man.   
  
They turned a corner across the street from the sketchy shop that had gone through many different things throughout the years, He read the sign above it, written in Morlian "Éclats De Cristal"  A crystal shop?  He had read in his books that crystals had been used for a very long time for their healing and magical properties.    
  
"Are you paying attention, come on!" Tessa said, grabbing his hand again.  He didn't mind her touching him, the only time he hated touch was when people caught him unaware, it forced him to remember his father's brutal beatings.  But Theresa was lighter, sweeter, she smelled nicer too.    
  
She led him down the stairs of what looked like a run down former club, they were in some kind of cellar or something, the walls were encrusted in something that looked vaguely like human sick and it didn't smell nice here.  He scrunched up his nose at the smell, it was worse than some of the garbage bins he slept near in broken alleyways.    
  
"Hiya everyone," She said, "This is a new kid I met out on the street during my... uh, patrols."   Everyone looked at him, some kids older than him, some younger.   A little girl who was wearing worn and tattered clothing gave him a look "Prénom? She asked.  He looked at Tessa and then at the ground beneath his feet, should he tell them his name?  He could lie, but Theresa already knew his name...  He relented "Eugene," He said  
  
"Comme ç'est gentil" She said with a shrug  
  
"Who is this kid?" a boy, not much older than himself asked, he held himself up in a strange way, defensive and angry.  Eugene knew a lot of street kids who did, It was hard to be out here knowing that no matter what, they were alone... All alone.  He couldn't blame anyone for being a little bitter and acting out,  Eugene knew all too well how it felt to be distrustful of others  
  
"I'm not trying to cause any trouble" He said earnestly "Theresa just wanted me to meet you all" At this, he softened and extended his hand to Eugene "I'm Aine Boyd, Nice to meet ya" He had a strange accent, He didn't sound as though he was from around this part of Morley, maybe more north.   Eugene shook his hand "So how long ya been out on the street, Eugene?"   
  
"Five years," He said "He always felt a little uncomfortable talking about his homelessness, it felt like he was accepting it as his life, the way someone would talk about their place of origin or where they worked.  "I... left home when I was ten."  
  
"Bad family life?" Aine asked, "Not to pry or anything, but we're all pretty open here.  Nothing to be shameful of, not for us.  We eat outta the trash"   
  
Eugene nodded "Yeah, I... yeah"   
  
Theresa kicked Aine in the shin "Knock it off Aine, you're prying too much, new kid doesn't wanna talk about it with kids he just met"   
  
"I've actually seen you around," Aine said, "Your stomping grounds is uptown near the Banlieue?"   
  
Eugene nodded again  
  
Theresa rolled her eyes and kicked Aine again "Stop. asking. questions"  She said, the smaller girl who had asked his name when he first came in tugged on the sleeve of Theresa's jacket "Il est une mauvaise nouvelle" She was whispering, but Eugene still caught what she was saying.  Theresa looked to Eugene "I'll... I have to talk to her, I'll be right back"  She said, she and the smaller child went outside and up the staircase.   
  
Eugene was intrigued, but he didn't want to lead the others to what he was doing, He waited just long enough and then said "I need some air" He said, the others paid him no mind while he walked back up the stairs, stopping before he ran into the two girls, he was close enough to overhear parts of their conversation  
  
"Vous entendez parler de cette femme qui a été trouvée dans la rue?"  the smaller girl asked, Eugene's eyes widened   
  
"The dead woman?"  Theresa asked "I heard it was an accident"   
  
"No," the child said "Not accident, she was killed"   
  
"Killed?" Theresa said, what rumors are you hearing? I told you to stay away from that tea house, those women are notorious for spreading gossip and false information.  The papers said it was some sort of accident"   
  
"I was there," the little girl said, "I saw what happened, it was him. "Le garçon"  
  
"What?" Theresa asked "Impossible, He would have told me about something like that"   
  
"He might not tell you everything, I'd wager against having him in our group.  No room for cold-blooded killers, Now if you don't mind. I'm going to cross to les boutiques du lac"   Eugene stayed on the staircase as he heard the sound of the smaller girls shoes tapping away, He was about to head back downstairs when Theresa made her way down instead, spotting him.   She gave him a look   
  
"Were you spying on me and Marriet?"  She put her hands on her hips angrily, and when he didn't answer... She shook her head "I can't believe it, I thought you were my friend, When were you going to tell me about that woman?"   
  
"I-" he started, he had no idea what he would say, there was no defense against what he had done, he killed a woman... As much as he tried to push it into the past, to leave it behind... Somethings won't stay buried.    
  
He took a step upwards on the staircase and she backed up, a look of horror on her face, she looked at him as though he were despicable, something to be hated.   
  
"Stay the hell away from me, Marriet is right, there's no room for you here.  We aren't monsters"  
  
"I'm not a monster," He said "I was - It was self-defense!"   
  
"That's what they always say when they are caught with the bloody knife in their hands" She looked angry, angrier than he had ever seen her in their short time together "You don't belong here," She said "You don't"  
  
"Theresa" He felt his breath catching in his throat, he felt like he was going to black out... She was yelling at him, he didn't like yelling, it didn't make him feel safe... The back of his neck was hot and he felt overwhelmed with the urge to run, to leave this place and never come back.    
  
"Don't try to get out of this" She said, she walked all the way up the staircase and onto the sidewalk, Eugene followed "Please just listen to me... She was hurt-"  
  
"I don't care!" She said "I don't care what she was doing, I don't care if she was playing pianoforte and had a trio of dancers kicking you in the back.  You murdered someone"  She looked around as she said it "Give me one good reason I don't turn you into the constables, your probably worth some coin."  She grabbed him by the jacket and looked around "Give me a reason" She threatened  
  
He struggled against her and shoved her away, losing his balance in the process, he fell to his knees on the cold wet ground, the rain was still pounding against them and collecting in puddles that mirrored the bleak sky above.   
  
"I thought we were friends," Eugene said, he wasn't looking at her, but down at his own hands. He felt shocked, hurt, How could she be this way? The two of them had fun together, ran the streets together and made fun of the rich assholes who looked down on them, He thought that in her, for the first time in his life he had found a friend.  
  
"Friends?!" She shouted, "I could never be friends with you after finding out what you did..."  The ruckus caused by their fight had drawn the attention of passersby, and the attention of the other street kids who had come up from the cellar to see what was going on. Aine stood with his arms crossed and a look in his eye like he knew Eugene was bad news.  
  
"Do you know what I just found out?" She asked the group "Do you know who this is?"  When nobody answered her she spat on the ground beneath her feet, almost at Eugene. "This is the jackass that killed that drunk bitch a couple weeks past"  
  
The crowd collectively gasped as the news sunk in, Eugene keeled there not knowing whether to run or stay and take the abuse, He was good at taking abuse. What was one more punch to the gut?  What was one more lash to skin that was covered in bruises and cuts?  He felt a deep shame welling up inside him, tears that threatened to drown him and air that caught in his lungs like debris.  They were all yelling, speaking, he couldn't hear a word of it.  He couldn't feel anything anymore, he was so close to becoming a part of something, but this group would never want him, not now....  
  
He pushed away from all of them, walking away in the pounding rain back to the one place he felt at home, He was so involved in his own turmoil that he did not notice that a man he had met weeks previously had overheard Theresa's shouting.   And he, like all leeches, was out for blood.   
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  



	12. New Chapter Coming Soon

This fic has been on hiatus for a little bit, but there's going to be more activity coming soon with a new chapter. Sit tight and make sure to bookmark this!


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